


Getting You Back

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate emotions, desperate connection, desperately holding onto each other. Stiles learns that he's far from meaningless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting You Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovenhardt1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovenhardt1/gifts).



>   
> Banner by me
> 
> This fic exists because of this picture: [link to tumblr](http://moodwriter.tumblr.com/post/66449884765). It’s glorious, isn’t it? The artist is incredibly good. I also wrote this fic for @lovenhardt1 to cheer her up. <3

Derek has been gone for three months, and it hasn’t been easy. Stiles feels like he’s the only one of their little group of three (the ones who went underwater) who has a hole in his heart. He’s the only one with darkness spreading inside him. He’s the only one who can’t control the loss of innocence. 

He’s losing himself bit by bit, and it doesn’t help that Derek is gone, and that Scott is their new Alpha. 

Stiles gets an odd message here and there from Cora and sometimes even from Derek. He wonders if they send those messages to anyone but him because nobody else seems to know anything about what’s going on with those two. He relays information, tells Scott that Cora and Derek are in New York, trying to find something Laura had, some family heirloom, and then shares with Derek or Cora how not-quiet it has been in Beacon Hills, how all kinds of supernatural creepers seem to want to breathe in the power of the Nemeton.

The only good thing that’s happened after Derek leaving is his relationship with his dad. Stiles shares everything he knows about werewolves, witches, and other Halloween creatures with his dad, and it means there’s no distrust between them anymore. It makes everything so much easier, like he’s finally able to breathe fresh air after being stuck inside for weeks. His dad recovers from the initial shock fast and immediately starts going through cold cases that might have had supernatural perpetrators. Stiles helps because he has more experience and knowledge. 

His dad also starts to carry wolfsbane bullets. 

Then one evening he gets a message from Derek: _I’m back. Come meet me at the old house._

Stiles is suspicious by nature so he sends Derek a message back: _How do I know it’s not a trap? Someone stole your phone?_

Derek calls him. “Nobody kidnapped me,” he says, sounding exhausted. 

“I’m glad.” Stiles stares at the moon. It’s almost full. “How are you? What’s at the house? Why do you need me?”

Derek lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just come here. I’ll explain everything.”

Stiles looks at the clock. It’s almost ten pm, and he has school tomorrow. “Okay, I’ll be there. Do I need the bat?” Once he realized a normal baseball bat was no match against werewolves he created a new one with the help of Deaton. It’s made of metal and is laced with wolfsbane, and it hurts like hell, according to Scott. 

“No,” Derek says. “No fighting.”

Stiles nods, then says out loud, “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks.” Derek hangs up.

Stiles tells his dad where he’s going, and then runs out the door and into his jeep. It takes him less than fifteen minutes to drive to the Hale house. 

He gets out of the car, looking around, but he can’t see Derek anywhere. “Where are you, wolfboy?” 

“Here,” Derek says on Stiles’ right, emerging from the woods. 

Derek is his dark and broody self, but something has changed. Stiles can’t figure out what, though, not until Derek walks up to him, less cocky and more confident, and maybe that’s it. He’s not full of bravado anymore, just quiet strength. 

“You look good,” Derek says, eyeing Stiles from head to toe. “Did you start training?”

“Running, yeah. Sparring with Scott too.” Stiles can’t believe they’re having a casual conversation after all the months Derek has been gone. It feels almost inappropriate. “How long have you been back?” Stiles asks. 

“I arrived right before I sent the message to you,” Derek says, then points at the porch steps. “Let’s go sit there.” 

Once seated, Stiles bites his lip, trying not to ask too many stupid questions like “why did you leave?” and “why did you call me?” 

“Cora will stay in New York. She found Laura’s old friends, and they adopted her to their group. She’s going to school too, and she wants to be a dancer, just like Laura’s friends. It’s so… odd.” Derek leans back against his hands, looking thoughtful. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Stiles finally asks because he has to say something. 

Derek glances at him, then the moon. “I did. That’s why I’m here.”

Now Stiles is curious. He wonders if Cora or Peter ever told Derek that they shared private information about Derek with Stiles. He wants to know everything, all the answers and all the knowledge, always. He doesn’t want to push Derek, though.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if Peter hadn’t bitten Scott?” 

“All the time.” He’ll never get over the guilt. A dead body is only a dead body as long as you don’t know who the person is. They were such idiots back then. _He_ was such an idiot.

“I’ve never had the luxury of before,” Derek says quietly. 

It sounds weird because Stiles knows Derek thinks being a werewolf is a gift. He said so to Scott. 

Derek stares at Stiles shamelessly. “I’d change everything if I could.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Stiles’ heart is pounding in his chest. This is not the kind of conversation he thought they would have. 

“I was told to talk about my issues.” Derek grins, and it’s disturbing.

“By who?”

“I saw a psychiatrist in New York, then a therapist, and finally a witch.” Derek looks sheepish. 

“You actually talked to someone? How? It’s all... supernatural.”

Derek shrugs. “My family was murdered. I’ve been held captive. I almost died. It’s all my fault. I have enough issues without the...” Derek points at his fangs and blue werewolf eyes.

Stiles nods. “Yeah…” He pauses, thinking. “But why me?”

“I want to show you something.” Derek gets up, expecting Stiles to follow him. 

They go inside the house, up the stairs and into a room that seems to be the place where Derek slept when he didn’t have his loft. There’s a mattress still on the floor, and an open duffle bag on top of it. He clearly just arrived. 

Derek rummages through the bag and pulls out a blue pouch which he hands to Stiles. “Open it.”

Stiles does, finding a small glass vial full of blood and a device that looks like a smartphone at first glance but has no navigation button. 

“ _This_ is the family heirloom?” Stiles asks, totally confused. 

“It’s the updated version of it. It was larger and heavier before.” Derek takes a step towards the door. “Let’s go back outside.”

Stiles puts the objects into the pouch and follows Derek, his thoughts scattered all over. 

“The witch told me to use it, and I did,” Derek says when they are on the porch again. “It works better in moonlight.”

“What is it?” Stiles asks, sitting next to Derek.

“It tells you important things.” Derek extends his hand, and Stiles gives the pouch to him. “It shares parts of the past, present and future, and you never know which. It can give you parts of possible futures too.” Derek takes the device in his hand, turns it two times counter-clockwise on his palm, then pours a few drops of blood on the screen.

“Who’s blood is it?” Stiles already knows the answer, but he asks anyway. There’s a reason he’s here. Derek just hasn’t told him that yet. 

“Yours.”

“How’d you get it?” He’s guessing that too. He only knows one person who’s creepy enough to steal someone’s blood.

“I took it from Peter before he disappeared.” Derek holds the device between them, screen up. “Close your eyes and concentrate.”

Stiles is skeptical, but he does what he’s told to because he’s about to learn something new. The moment he closes his eyes it feels like he’s falling into a dream world. He lets out a whimper because it’s cold and foggy and every part of his body hurts. 

Derek takes his hand, saying, “Don’t hold onto any of it, just walk through it.”

Stiles takes a step forward, but all he sees is darkness and more fog. There’s the moon too, and he can hear footsteps and snarling close by. “What is this?”

“Don’t open your eyes before it ends. It’ll bleed into your reality if you do.” Derek sounds exhausted again. “Just look around. It can’t hurt you for real.”

He sees Scott further away, his eyes red. Scott feels transparent somehow, like he’s not real in this world. “Why is it so dark?”

“It’s spreading,” Derek says quietly. “Isn’t it, Stiles?”

The Nemeton’s darkness? The hole inside him? 

He sees flashes of power, and the fear in his father’s eyes. There are very few people in here with him, very few who seem to matter in any way. He sees Deaton, restraining him, sees the insanity eating at his mind. Everything is so dark, so cold, so lonely. He doesn’t want to stay, doesn’t want to look around anymore. He bites his lip, tries to hold in the cry. “How do I get out? Please, get me out.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand, then lets go and snaps his fingers. It pulls Stiles right out of the trance. He opens his eyes, shaking all over. “You could’ve warned me,” Stiles says, but it’s without heat. He’s known for a while now. He’s not going to good places. 

“I don’t have much time.” Derek cuts his own skin with a claw and drops blood on the screen again. “Watch this now.”

Before Stiles closes his eyes, he takes Derek’s hand. It’s easier to endure this that way. 

Derek’s reality is so different from Stiles’ it’s shocking. Derek has nothing but white surrounding him. Everything is equally empty, lacking warmth and closeness and _pack_. 

“I can’t let anything in,” Derek says, his voice soft and broken. “Nothing is better than everything.”

In the corners of his eyes, Stiles can see blood and carnage. He can see monsters and fire and death. It’s all there, but only if he doesn’t look, only if he doesn’t try to see anything. 

Then there’s Scott, a shining beacon in the white nothingness. He represents hope to Derek, something unattainable, something pure. It weirds Stiles out because the Scott he knows is a douche with a warm heart. He’s not the way Derek sees him. 

Stiles closes his eyes in the whiteness of Derek’s past-present-future, and then he feels it, smells it, senses it. “Oh my god. What is that?”

Derek makes a weird sound, like he wants to close off but can’t, won’t, like he doesn’t agree with himself.

Stiles breathes deep, trying to locate the scent, and when he does their worlds collide, Derek’s blood on the screen mixing with his. “It’s me. Why is it me?”

The edges of light and dark touch and the insanity on Stiles’ side withdraws. “You affect my sanity. Why?” The dark also creates shapes into the white nothingness, shapes that have meaning, shapes that make Stiles want to cry. They are memories of faces, of words spoken with love. They make him want to stay. 

Derek growls, low and long, but it’s not annoyance or anything Stiles can explain. It helps him get back to himself. 

He opens his eyes. “I do that to you?”

“Yes.”

“When did you realize it?” Stiles can barely breathe. 

“When the witch showed me why I’m better off in Beacon Hills even though everything bad happens here.” Derek is openly staring at him now, his eyes sharp but vulnerable. 

“I make you remember good things?” He can’t believe it, can’t understand any of it. 

“You bring good things back. There’s a difference. I can remember anywhere, but I can’t focus on the good things. There’s always something that destroys a peaceful moment. My head is full of holes. It’s full of traps, and I always fall into them, except when I’m with you.”

“Whoa… Okay.” Stiles gets up, staring at the rapidly darkening sky. It’s going to rain soon. “You said you don’t have much time. What does that mean?”

Derek stands up too, his hands in his pockets. “I have to save you.”

“What?” Stiles looks at Derek, takes a step back, and frowns. “I don’t need saving.”

“You’ve always stepped over boundaries. You’re not pure like Scott or fierce like Allison. You stray from the path, and that makes you vulnerable to the darkness. You know that.”

“What do you know? You haven’t been here. Nobody knows jack shit about what’s going on with me.” Stiles runs down the steps and continues to walk away, but Derek follows, a persistent presence of rationality that annoys Stiles more than anything. “Fuck off.”

“I’ve seen it,” Derek says, easily keeping up with Stiles. “I’ve seen the way your mind feels.”

“Stop spying,” Stiles yells, turning around. He pushes Derek away, makes him stumble a little. “Stay the fuck away from my mind.”

When Stiles starts walking again, Derek follows because he’s an asshole. 

“Stiles, I affect you the same way. I push away the darkness. That’s why it’s been harder for you without me here. I can help.”

Stiles wants to scream at Derek. He wants to yell at the sky. He wants to tear it open and burn everything to the ground. 

The sky opens, pouring heavy rain. 

“Calm down,” Derek says quietly, grabbing Stiles’ arm. “You can do all that with your mind. Your spark is a wild fire. It can eat you up. And I think you know that. I think you’ve known that for a while now.”

Stiles doesn’t try to pull himself free. He just pants, lets the rain make him wet, lets Derek keep him there. “So you’ve seen what I’ll be able to do?”

Derek nods. His hair is plastered to his face, much like in the swimming pool forever ago. 

“And I’ll kill people?”

“You haven’t yet.”

“But I might.” Stiles folds in on himself. It hurts to think about it. “I don’t want to be a responsible adult. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want you.”

Derek pulls him close, wraps his arms around Stiles like they are friends, like they know each other. “I can save you.”

He doesn’t want to be saved.

“In return, you can save me.” Derek tightens his hold. “Please Stiles, let’s do this.”

“How?” He grabs hold of Derek’s shirt. 

“By staying.” Derek’s cheek against his is warm.

That sounds so ridiculously easy, but Stiles has no idea how to do it. Staying close to Derek, letting him stay close. “We’ll end up murdering each other.” He lets out a hysterical laugh. 

“We might not.” Derek sounds amused too, and that there makes Stiles wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and hold him as close as possible.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re doing it just fine,” Derek whispers next to his ear. 

“You’re already pushing the fog away.” He doesn’t want to admit anything, but Derek deserves to know. “It’s been so bad. I’ve been seeing things.”

“I know.” Derek pulls him impossibly closer. “I’m sorry it took me forever to get back home.”

“I don’t understand why it’s you. I don’t…” Stiles holds on, burying his nose in Derek’s neck.

Derek huffs. “You’re the only one I dare to let close.”

“Why?”

“Because you do things without expecting anything in return. You just sacrifice and give and flail through everything. You don’t ask; you do. And it never hurts.”

“You’re talking so much it’s scary.” Stiles snorts because the alternative is awfully embarrassing. 

“I want to do this. I want to share that space with you.”

“You’re saying there’s still hope for us?”

Derek smiles against Stiles’ skin. “Yeah, hope. I like that.” He sounds a little intoxicated. 

Maybe this is it. This is his adventure, the one he’s going to take without Scott. “I’m scared.”

Derek pulls Stiles’ hips closer to his own, and there it is, the hard evidence that this is something other than just a friendly exchange of powers. This is want, too, lust in their veins. Derek bites his neck with blunt teeth, and Stiles tilts his head to the side, whimpering. 

“What is this?” Stiles asks, needing to hear it from Derek.

Derek’s hands move up and down Stiles’ back, his shirt sliding up, baring his skin to the rain. “Me wanting you?” Derek stumbles with the words, then bites Stiles’ jaw. “Please?”

Stiles pants against Derek’s mouth, his heart beating insanely fast, making him feel dizzy. He’s not sure how he wants this to end, but he knows what he wants from the beginning. He kisses Derek before he loses his courage, lets his lips touch Derek’s lightly, and when that happens his back arches, his body taut in Derek’s arms. Something shifts inside him, makes the colors slightly brighter. “Oh my god… kiss me again,” Stiles says when Derek pulls back, breathing hard, but before Derek can do anything, Stiles grabs Derek’s hair and closes the distance again. 

This time it’s harder, heavier, more meaningful, and Stiles drowns in the pure need. They are frantic, rubbing off on each other, Derek’s knee between Stiles’ thighs. It doesn’t last long, doesn’t need to because it’s been forever for Derek and never for Stiles. 

Stiles feels the rain on his face when he comes, when he’s shaking in Derek’s hold. It’s liberating, and it makes Stiles laugh out loud. 

Derek growls, biting Stiles. “What are you laughing at?”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Stiles sighs. He doesn’t let go of Derek, doesn’t want to. For some crazy unknown reason he belongs here.

“I know the feeling.” Derek sounds so happy it catches Stiles off guard, makes him curl with happiness, too.

“Did you see this happening?” Stiles asks, licking Derek’s neck, enjoying the effect it has on him. 

Derek growl-whines. “Hoped. I only saw that you needed me.”

“This is insane.”

Derek nods, burying his face in Stiles’ neck. “Yeah.”

He knows he’s someone Derek might lose someday. “Let’s make a pact,” Stiles says, careful and quiet. “Let’s die of old age, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek mutters, almost crushing Stiles when he hugs him tighter. 

They’ll make it happen somehow, Stiles is sure of that. They’ve beat the odds already, and besides, the tide has to turn at some point. “I’ll make you remember the good things.”

“I know,” Derek whispers, telling Stiles he’ll let him do it. Only him.

 

The End


End file.
